The Ashmolean’s had something of a facelift recently, and the relaunch was accompanied by such an impressive fanfare of publicity that it was almost impossible not to notice it. But the transformation is impressive, and succeeds in making Britain’s oldest public museum into something that you’d actively want to visit.
The most welcome of all the additions, though, is the Ashmolean Dining Room: perched right at the top of the vast building, it advertises itself as ‘a celebration of food and wine alongside art and culture’. The Pre-Raphaelites aren’t exactly hanging in the restaurant itself, which is probably wise, but they’re undeniable close by – and any celebration of food and wine is worth at least one look.
Visiting the restaurant outside museum hours feels a little like going in via the tradesman’s entrance: the door is tucked discreetly away on St. Giles, and there’s a lonely porter sat behind a reception desk just inside. But once you’ve reached the restaurant itself, the benefits of this slightly circuitous and shady entrance route become abundantly apparent. The dining room – a single large space, with views over Beaumont Street on one side and the full-height stairwell of the museum on the other – does feel like a proper restaurant, and a rather sophisticated one too. There’s no hint of the museum cafe about it, and no sign of a giftshop around the next corner.
The dark woods, steel and glass lend a note of modern class which is in keeping with the rest of the museum’s new aesthetic, but it’s not overbearing and the low-backed chairs contribute to the convivial and faintly communal atmosphere. It is, altogether, a rather pleasant place to dine.
The food is even better. The menu is surprisingly limited – there’s only about ten main courses, and four or five desserts – but this makes choosing easier rather than harder. It’s clearly aimed at a lunchtime as well as an evening crowd, but this doesn’t feel like a hindrance or a let-down. Our starter was a sharing platter of olives, artichokes, quails eggs and spinach and mozzarella risotto balls. It was beautifully presented and the portions were generous: crucially, it had enough substance to feel like a proper course without spoiling our appetites.
A roast suckling pig was served with more lentils than even the most committed hippy could possibly ever eat, but was delicious none the less. Better too many than too few. The whole sea bass, however, made the leap into the category of genuine excellence. The pork was very good, so it says a lot that I regretted not ordering the sea bass instead. The small range of puddings feels like it’s missing a light, refreshing option, but a shared – blame the lentils – chocolate mousse with gran marnier and orange confit was nonetheless very good. The wine list is about ten times the size of the menu, but it starts at reasonable prices and good quality. Our waiter – french, amusing, helpful, generally the epitome of good service – selected our wine for us with some style and great success.
The Ashmolean Dining Room seems to have pulled off a clever trick. It’s smart enough, and the food is certainly good enough, for a proper celebration or occasion, but it’s also very clear that they wouldn’t turn their nose up if you ordered only a bowl of soup and a glass of water. It will, inevitably, be a honey-pot for the coachloads of cultured OAPs who fill the Ashmolean, but the atmosphere and the surroundings felt welcoming to students, too. The bill for two people, for three courses and a bottle of wine, was ninety pounds, so it’s probably more somewhere for the parents to take you if you want the full evening experience. But it’s classy, and its got more character that lots of other Oxford eateries, so I advise that your parents visit in the near future.
